Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Annette
Edward’s eyes widened, and his jaw hung slack. My vow of support had clearly shocked him, and his reaction brought a full smile to my lips. “Do not be so surprised. Can a woman not put her money into causes she believes in?”
“No—that is, of course, she can. I simply…I did not expect…” He averted his gaze, but I did not miss the tear he swiped from his eye.
Months ago, I never would have guessed the lieutenant held such deep convictions, nor would I have believed him to be passionate about a topic I myself was.
I could not claim to be a stark abolitionist like him or my father, but I strongly opposed any situation where one person enslaved another.
And slavery does not always mean physical chains.
Realizing my hand still held his, I pulled away and settled mine in my lap. “As you said, people deserve freedom. I wish to help anyone who feels powerless and oppressed. My father believes you will do a fine job fighting for that very thing. I believe it, too.”
He looked at me again, his dark eyes sweeping over my face, searching. “You truly believe so?”
I shrugged, resisting the urge to shift under his scrutiny.
Something about the way Edward looked at me set my heart to racing.
That had always been the case, but lately, his unabashed studying held more meaning.
This was not his typical open appreciation, but something else entirely.
A raw adoration that caused flutters in my stomach.
“Of course,” I said finally, “I would want a say in how the money is spent were I to offer that kind of support. England needs more reform than you realize. Abolition is certainly important, but there are other forms of slavery—others steeped in tradition.”
His brows furrowed. “I’m afraid I do not follow.”
I looked away, regretting my words. For a moment, I had seen in Edward an ally for change, but how was I to convince him—or any man, for that matter—that women were often just as oppressed by their husbands as slaves were by their masters?
Margaret was a prime example of how controlling a man could be of his wife.
She had little to no freedom, and according to the law, she could do nothing about her suffering.
Nothing to free herself. She belonged to Mr. Wilcot, and there was no course for her to escape him.
I stood from the bench. “It is of no importance. Just know that once I receive my inheritance, I will do what I can to help you. Not just with Adda and Hollinsby, but with reform. We may not sit in Parliament, but we can still influence change. I think the pair of us could make a brilliant team given our convictions align.”
“A team?” His gaze settled on me, but his focus seemed entirely lost, as if he were deep in thought.
“Yes. We can work toward change together, you and I.” This affirmation did not pull him from his thoughts.
I stood in silence for several minutes before making a second attempt.
“Would you consider it, Edward? I truly mean what I said. I wish to help, and I think together we could make a difference.”
He met my gaze and nodded. “I will consider it.”
I dipped my head. “Then I will leave you to it.”
After another nod, he fell back into pensiveness. I retreated quietly to give him time to himself. My proposition was much to consider, and while I had not given it the proper consideration myself, I felt no regret in it.
Since I would not have a busy life raising children and running some grand estate, such support and involvement in a cause would provide me with something life-fulfilling.
The thought dulled the ache for more, however minutely, and my resolve hardened.
It was time I requested that money from Father. For myself and for Edward.
It was not until the following morning that the opportunity to speak with Father became available to me.
Yesterday, he had experienced a fit of coughs so bad that the doctor had been called.
The spell had sapped Father of energy, and according to Mother, he had slept the majority of the afternoon and evening.
Even now, as I crossed the room to him, his pale face and sagging skin filled me with dread.
He was not well, and if the doctor was to be believed, he never would be. It was a hard thing to accept.
“My dear Annette,” he said as I took my seat, his smile deepening the wrinkles around his eyes.
He held out his hand, and when I set mine within it, his other hand settled on top.
How long would I have this privilege of sitting at his side, feeling secure and comforted by his hold?
A hollowness filled my chest, and emotion tightened my throat.
“It is good to see you,” he said, “but where is that smile I have missed?”
My lips lifted at his words, offering it to him readily.
“There it is.” He smiled back, his eyes twinkling. “Now, tell me what it is you’ve been up to as of late? Your mother says you’ve spent a great deal of time away from the castle. I hope you have not been avoiding our guest.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “It seems the more I try to evade Lieutenant Paget, the less I succeed.”
“Then perhaps you ought not try so hard.”
“Then perhaps the man ought not irk me so.”
Father chuckled, and even that mild amusement summoned a spell of coughing. I quickly stood and crossed the room to get the pitcher of water on the nearby desk. I returned with a filled glass, and he drank deeply from it, emptying it by half.
“Thank you,” he wheezed, handing the cup back to me.
I held onto it in case he needed it again. “I should not wish to see you laugh when it causes so much trouble, but I admit, I have missed that sound.”
He scrunched his nose. “Trouble or not, I cannot march toward my death with complete solemnness. If I cannot laugh, then what reason do I have to live?”
“Well, there is your family to consider.”
At this, he grinned. “Ah, my darling Annette. Forgive me for being so crass. Of course, I’ve no wish to make this harder on all of you than it already is. I do not mean to make light of the circumstances. You must understand, however, it is exhausting to sit with sorrow day-in and day-out.”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, tell me about you and our guest.”
This was not what I had come to speak with him about, nor did I understand why he was so intent on the subject. But if it would ease us into the topic I had come to discuss with him, I would oblige. “There is not much to tell.”
“I find that hard to believe. I have eyes everywhere, you know. Rumor has it you’ve spoken at length with the man. Even let him see you in quite the state in the stables.”
I bit back a laugh. The servants at Kenwick were loyal…to my father. “Perhaps, I did.”
“You will shock the man, my dear. I hope you have eased him into your disregard for propriety.”
“More like shoved him head-first into a mud puddle.”
Father laughed, this time without coughing. He had never chided me for my unladylike behavior. In fact, he encouraged it at times.
“Ah, my fierce girl,” he said. “I expected nothing less. But mud? Good heavens.”
“Not literally, Father. Although, a little mud is good for the soul.”
“Right you are. But tell me honestly now, have the two of you been cordial?”
“We have been…mostly cordial. I confess I may not have been on my best behavior when he first arrived.”
Father chuckled again, but it was more controlled this time.
“Yes, your mother mentioned the tart incident. She was quite livid about the whole of it, but I begged her to leave you be. Interference would only make you dig your heels in—make you resent the man more, however fake that resentment may be.”
I pulled back with indignation. “I will have you know my dislike of the lieutenant was completely genuine.”
“Was it?” The way his eyes twinkled suggested he did not believe me.
“Yes,” I reassured. “He was always teasing me in Town. The man was insufferable.”
Father hummed, rubbing his bearded chin.
That he had facial hair at all was a testament to his health.
He had never been one to allow stubble to linger.
“It is interesting that you speak in past tense when asserting your dislike. Was genuine. Was teasing. Was insufferable. Has the nature of your relationship changed?”
My heart skipped a beat, eager to explore that question. Far, far too eager. “We are simply more cordial than we used to be. Do not read into it. In fact, one of the reasons for my visit is to discuss our agreement. The one we made before leaving for Town.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, curiosity raising his graying brows.
“You promised to release my dowry to me as an inheritance, remember? I have hesitated to ask, given the circumstances, but I’ve recently learned of Ed—Lieutenant Paget’s determination to see reform and to pursue abolition. I find the cause a worthy one and would like to offer my support to him.”
Father frowned. “I see.”
Did he not approve of my desire to support Edward? Or support his cause, rather. It made little sense to me. Father himself was a staunch proponent for abolition. So why did he seem to disapprove?
“I had hoped…” Father trailed off and went quiet for several moments. “But there is still time for that, I suppose. Regardless, I must disappoint you. Our agreement was that I would hand off control of your dowry if you entertained suitors in Town.”
“Which I did,” I interjected. “Many of them. Thanks to Russell.” I muttered the last part.
“Indeed, you did, but have you forgotten the rest of my stipulations?”
“If I remained unwed,” I offered. “Naturally, that clause only makes sense. Had I married, my dowry would have gone to my husband. But as you can see, I survived Town without being chained to some miserable soul.”
Another controlled chuckle escaped Father. “Miserable? Oh, darling, no man who won your heart and hand would be miserable. But I digress. You needed to remain unwed, true enough, but the timeframe has not yet passed.”
My jaw dropped, and I spluttered. “But…but we have left Town. We’ve been in Kent for months.”
“And I specifically stated the condition was if you are not wed by the end of the year, if you’ll recall. We are still months from that.”
My stomach sank. Had he said that? I replayed the conversation over in my mind.
As much as I wished to deny it, I could not.
Father had marked the end of the year as his timeframe, but for some reason, I had gotten it into my head that, after the Season concluded, I was as good as free.
After all, I would not be courting anyone in Kent.
I had known the gentleman who resided nearby for most of my life, and none of them had interested me before.
None of them had shown interest in me, either.
Slumping against the chair, I stared unseeingly at the fire glowing in the hearth across from us. How had I miscalculated to this extent? It was only a few months more, yet I felt as if the thing I wanted most had been snatched from my grasp.
“Allow me to reassure you, Annette,” Father said softly. “My solicitor is aware of our agreement. You will receive what I promised should the stipulations be met; however, there is still time for you to marry before then. I remain hopeful.”
Hopeful? I met his gaze, and the sinking sensation in my stomach intensified.
Surely, he did not mean... But, yes. He did mean precisely what I feared.
The only way he could possibly say that is if he hoped I would marry our current guest. “You invited the lieutenant here for that purpose. You wish for us to marry.”
Father smiled guiltily. “I shan’t lie to you.”
“Father! I cannot marry him,” I countered, the words filled with a sardonic laughter. “We would never suit. We argue all the time. He vexes me, and I him. We quite heartily loathe one another.”
Did we not? I was no longer certain. At one time, perhaps I could have claimed it, but having come to understand him—to truly see him and know him—I no longer felt the prick of displeasure in his company.
His teasing still irked me, but I found entertainment in countering it with my own.
What was more, the man’s passionate resolve to end slavery spoke to my soul.
If any man could understand my aversion to marriage, it was one who fought ardently to preserve the freedom of others.
Only such a man could convince me to forgo my independence.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Father had known this—perhaps anticipated it, even.
He knew how I cherished my independence and had prepared to counter my resolve with a man he believed would never take it from me.
But was he correct? Would Edward, as a husband, respect his wife?
Would he allow her freedom and support her in all endeavors rather than belittle and berate?
A feeling deep inside me insisted it was so, but how could I trust it?
Margaret had trusted Mr. Wilcot.
I had trusted him.
We had both been wrong.
Warmth spread over my hand when Father rested his over mine. “I have shocked you, I think.”
“No…no, I…very well, you have shocked me to a degree.”
“You do not seem wholly put out with the possibility of marrying the lieutenant,” he observed.
“I am too confused to have a proper opinion.”
He laughed, bringing on a bout of coughing.
I offered him the remainder of the water, and once he had finished, he settled against his pillows, exhaustion marring his features.
“My greatest desire is that my family is cared for when I leave this world. Whatever you decide, I want you to be happy. Consider the possibilities. Do not rush to dismiss any of them.”
The pleading in his voice sent a pang through my chest. Standing, I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I will, Father. I promise.”